Last Night: A Mentalist FanFic
by Ashtreerose
Summary: Teresa Lisbon is hungover, confused, and... in Patrick Jane's house? What happened last night?  Rated T just to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Hello people! Thanks for choosing to read my Fan Fiction, that means a lot. And I hope you enjoy this story. It took me an hour to write this first chapter, and this is only my second FanFic ever, so keep that in mind. Please leave reviews! I don't mind constructive critisism, but don't be too harsh. This is only my second FanFic! I hope you enjoy. :) - Ashlee-Rose**

**Disclaimer: Well, of course I don't own the Mentalist. I only wish I did. But I do own this story.**

**Prologue**

**Lisbon's POV**

The first thing Teresa Lisbon noticed as she cracked open her eyes, was that her head was pounding so hard, she could barely see. It felt as though someone was steadily beating a bass drum inside her brain, breaking it into tiny pieces. Her mouth was dry as wool, and tasted revolting, and her stomach was roiling and churning.

"Ugh..." She groaned, tightly shutting her eyes again and rolling over to reach for her cell phone on her side table. Her side table? She groped at thin air.

_What the hell? Where is my freaking table?_ She thought, confused.

Finally, Teresa opened her eyes, wincing. The sunlight flooding the room made her head hurt even more, and she groaned again. But then she froze.

She wasn't in her room. She wasn't even in her own house. She stared around herself, taking in the plain furnishings. Just a bed, a dresser, and a closet.

Despite the steady throbbing of her head, Teresa's cop instincts kicked in. She strained her mind to remember what had happened the night before, but nothing came to mind. All she could recall was leaving work at around six, much earlier than usual, because she had to go somewhere... somewhere she couldn't remember.

Hesitantly, Teresa slipped out of the bed. As she had expected, her legs wobbled beneath her, and her head throbbed extra painfully. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to see she was wearing her own 'Lisbon' football jersey, the same one she wore to bed every night. _What the hell?_

Teeth clenched, she stumbled over to the door, pulled it open, and began tiptoeing down the stairs. Well, tiptoeing as much as possible with the limited control she had over her legs. She didn't know why, but she had the instinct to be as quiet as possible.

Of course, as soon as her foot touched the last stair, she tripped, sprawling over the carpet in a very ungraceful manner.

"Morning, Lisbon. Oh, are you okay?" A cheerful-yet-concerned, horribly familiar voice chirped from above Teresa's head.

_Oh, please say this is just an awful nightmare..._ Her brain thought frantically, no longer the cool, calm inward-voice it usually was. Horrified, she scrambled to her feet, ignoring the painful twinge of her head.

Her perky, arrogant, and just plain irritating consultant, Patrick Jane, was smiling at her, extending a large hand. His hair was still ruffled from sleep, and he didn't seem fully alert yet. _Oh, god. _Teresa's eyes almost popped out of her head.

"_Jane?_" She screeched in disbelief, quickly yanking the hem of her jersey down, which had flown up during her fall. She didn't know what else to say. Had she... _stayed the night_ with Patrick _Jane_? What the hell had happened last night? Teresa grabbed her forehead, feeling completely like she was about to have a breakdown.

He frowned in concern, touching her shoulder. "Are you alright? Do you want some Tylenol?" He held out two pills and a glass of water temptingly, eyes sparkling with barely concealed delight. _Why the hell is he so happy? And what _happened_ last night?_ Teresa's brain was screaming the same thing over and over.

Jane offered the pills again, looking slightly more concerned now. "Ah, Lisbon? Take them."

But Teresa glared around herself, ignoring him, looking for her off-duty weapon and badge. "Dammit, Jane! If you don't tell me _exactly_ what is going on, _right this second_, I swear I am going to shoot you. And I'll shoot to kill." She spotted her badge and gun, sitting on top of a folded green silk dress. A dress she recognised very well.

Sinking into the nearest chair, Teresa stared at the dress, anger forgotten. She remembered buying the dress the week before, spending half of her paycheck on that one tube of fabric. She had bought it specifically for her date. The date with...

"Walter Mashburn." Teresa muttered, more confused than ever. She and Walter had been on a few dates over the past few months. But that didn't explain what she was doing in Jane's house.

"You really don't remember? Anything?" Jane sat beside her, his brow furrowed. She shook her head impatiently, ignoring the pain, wondering when he was going to tell her. He was silent for a moment. Teresa sighed in frustration, tapping her toe on the chair impatiently.

"Well, what happened? Now would be good!" Teresa glared at Jane, finally snatching the Tylenol and water from his hands. _Does he consider it a day wasted if he doesn't piss me off at least once?_ She wondered, irritated, as she swallowed the water and Tylenol. He waited until she had thrown the pills back, and then smiled in that slightly mocking way of his.

"Hmm. It all started late last night. Our hero Patrick Jane was trying to get some sleep..." Jane started jokingly, chuckling at the look on Teresa's face.

She was not amused.

**Hmm. What do you think happened? And more importantly, did Lisbon really spend the night with Jane? All will be revealed. Stay tuned! :) Review please!**


	2. Chapter One

**Sorry this has taken so long, I've been really busy. But I've been day-dreaming about finally sitting down to write this. A special thanks to Smnbkr, 24Mentalistlover, Jisbon4ever, lysjelonken, madcloisfan, and Feralious for taking the time to write reviews of the Prologue. I really appreciate it, and you totally made my day! **

**P. s. Where it says -Break-, that is where a '*' is supposed to go, to show a break in time. For some reason, it edited out my '*'s, so I had to write -Break- instead. Haha.**

**I hope you enjoy! :) - Ashlee-Rose**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything but the story and the mistakes in it. Damn.**

**Chapter One – One Day Earlier**

**Jane's POV**

Patrick Jane lay back on his favorite, battered couch with a relaxed sigh. It was late on Friday evening, and everyone else had left the CBI Headquarters hours ago. Even, Patrick mused, Lisbon, who was usually still here at this late hour. He smiled to himself, remembering where she was. After she had come to work in an extremely good mood, he had bugged her for two hours until she told him why: She had another date with Walter Mashburn, that charismatic billionare who was so fixated on her.

Patrick's smile faded. Despite the fact Mashburn obviously _wanted_ her, it wasn't the same as loving her. In the brief period Patrick had known Mashburn, he had proven himself to be a self-indulgent, arrogant man, and Patrick doubted he had ever been in love. He had been in more relationships than he had patience. This was what worried Patrick.

It meant that he wasn't afraid of breaking a woman's heart. And Patrick had the funny feeling Mashburn's interest with Lisbon was nothing more than a fleeting facination. Patrick frowned, wondering why he cared so much. Lisbon was extremely tough, and she had been through more than anyone he knew. (Except himself, of course.)

Although Lisbon had never spoken to him much about her childhood, Jane pretty much had it figured out. Her mother had died in a drunk-driving accident when Lisbon had only been twelve. Her father had deteriorated into a self-pitying drunk, badly injuring Lisbon and her brothers several times in drunken fits of rage. The twelve year old Teresa Lisbon had been forced to grow up fast, and had carefully constructed a tough shell around herself. That tough shell became her safe haven. Whenever her father was being particularly abusive to her and her siblings, she had retreated into the shell. It was a protective mechanism that Patrick had noticed Lisbon still used sometimes, when her family was brought up.

When Lisbon had been in her late teens, her father died, of alcohol-related organ disease. Lisbon had become even more like a mother to her three younger brothers. And that was as far as Patrick had gotten with figuring out her life. As far as he knew, she didn't even talk to her brothers, some kind of family feud she couldn't settle.

Patrick sighed. Yes, Teresa Lisbon was an incredibly strong woman, and feisty to boot. _But that doesn't mean she isn't succeptible to heartbreak,_ a small voice in the back of his head whispered. Patrick shook himself mentally, almost laughing out loud.

He had layed down on his couch to get some well-needed sleep, and all he could think about was Lisbon? _Yes, why is that, Patrick?_ His inner voice goaded. Lisbon would be fine, he told himself firmly, ignoring the voice. She was a mature adult, and Mashburn wouldn't hurt her anyway.

Rolling over onto his side, Patrick closed his eyes, feeling his drowsiness beginning to take over. He was just hovering between awake and asleep when his cellphone trilled loudly.

Sighing again, Patrick sat up and grabbed the ringing phone from the arm of the couch. As much as he enjoyed working with the CBI, sometimes the late night phone calls got a bit much. But when he checked the caller id, and was instantly wide-awake and curious.

"Hello?" He answered, eyes drifting to the clock above Cho's desk reading 11:45.

"Hey, Jane, Ineed a favor." Lisbon's voice slurred in his ear, sounding very unlike herself. Patrick frowned, standing up from his couch. He could hear pounding bass music behind Lisbon's voice. A bar?

"Lisbon, have you been drinking?" He grabbed his car keys from his desk, phone still clamped to his ear. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"Jus' a lil' bit," She paused, seemingly to think about her next words. "I need you to come get me. Walter-" A long pause. "I tol' him I had a way of getti'g home. I don't," she added, unnecessarily.

Patrick was intrigued. And slightly annoyed. Mashburn had just left her somewhere, in the middle of the night? He felt a sudden burst of anger towards him. Anything could have happened to Lisbon in the state she was in! Patrick pushed through the doors, heading for the back carpark.

"Lisbon, where are you?" Patrick unlocked his car and got in, turning on the ignition. He almost felt like laughing. This is exactly what he had been worried about, and it was happening. Sometimes he wondered if he really did have psychic abilities, like Van Pelt was always telling him.

"At a bar. I think... I think th'address's 12 Brown street." Patrick knew the place. He and Rigsby had investigated a lead there a few months back. It was full of teenagers and young men looking for drunk women to prey on... He pulled out of the carpark with a little more speed than he normally would have. He knew he was being over reactive, but Lisbon wasn't bullet proof, and her usually perfect cop senses had been hugely dulled by the alcohol.

"I'm on my way," Patrick told her, resisting the urge to ask her what had happened. He had the funny feeling she wouldn't want to talk about it.

"Thank you, Patrick." Lisbon's voice said softly. Then there was the dial tone. Patrick let out a breath, wondering exactly how much she'd had to drink. She _never_ called him Patrick, unless she was calling him by his full name in some state of anger, or introducing him to someone. He shot off down the road.

As Patrick quickly and expertly parked in front of the bar, he noticed that it was still in full swing. There was drunken yelling, laughing, and pounding music pouring from the doors, and there was a line of young people waiting to get in. Patrick shook his head in disbelief. What the hell was Lisbon doing here? It really wasn't her scene.

Patrick ignored the queue, walking purposfully up to the bouncer, who regarded his three-piece suit with interest. Although he projected an air of strength and authority, Patrick could tell he was bored and unhappy with his job. Patrick produced his CBI card from his pocket, flashing it in the bouncer's face.

"Patrick Jane, California Bureau of Investigation. I'm here just briefly, to pick up my boss." He said loudly over the throbbing music. The bouncer frowned, and Patrick leaned closer.

"Oh, by the way: You should consider a career in the Armed Forces, much more exciting and macho. You'd enjoy it much more than herding drunk teenagers, I'm sure," Patrick said, smiling at the bewildered look on the bouncer's face. With that, he slipped through the doors, leaving the man to consider his words.

As Patrick strode through the crowd toward the bar at the far end, he noticed many people stop and stare at him. He didn't really fit in, in his grey suit, he realised. It seemed the dress code was 'less is more', as many of the women looked half-naked.

He shook his head, slightly amused, and continued towards the bar. Suddenly he was stopped by a hand pulling on his arm. He turned to see a tall redhead smiling at him, her short black dress so tight, it looked as though it was made for a toddler.

"Hi." She purred. "Wanna dance?" Patrick smiled politely at her, slightly flattered.

"Sorry," He pulled away gently, eyes roving the bar, looking for the head of dark brown. "I'm looking for someone."

And then he saw her.

She was slumped across the bar, shiny brown hair spilling around her like a halo. Her pale face was turned towards him, the eyes tightly closed, mouth slightly open. The silky green dress wrapped around her petite frame was twisted, the side seam at the back. An empty shot glass was in her limp hand, resting on the bar-top, and a small black bag was in her lap. She looked... dead.

_No. _All the air left Patrick's lungs in a whoosh. _Please say she is okay,_ he thought desperately, racing toward her, the redhead forgotten. He seemed to glide to her, he moved so fast.

He put a hand on her slim shoulder, shaking her. "Lisbon? Teresa? Wake up!" Nothing. Patrick swore his heart stopped beating. But then her eyelids fluttered, and he almost cried out in relief.

"Lisbon?" He said gently, relieved beyond belief, shaking her shoulder again. Her eyes opened fully, and she sat up slowly, wincing. Then her eyes landed, unfocused, on Patrick's, and she smiled slightly.

"Jane... You're here. I think I need a ride." Patrick sighed, smiling sarcastically.

"You think?" His eyes landed on her shot glass. "Exactly how much have you had to drink?"

"I don't know... Ugh," She groaned, putting a hand to her mouth. "I don't feel so good."

And she promptly threw up all over the floor.

-Break-

After explaining to the bar keeper that Lisbon had been almost comatose when he had found her, and that he needed to keep an eye on how much alcohol he was giving people, Patrick helped Lisbon up. She had been sitting there quietly during the conversation, but Patrick could tell she was slightly more alert now she had emptied most of the alcohol out of her system. She put an arm around his shoulders, putting most of her weight on him, and she didn't seem to have much control over her legs.

They made their way though the crowd easily, as Lisbon's face was enough to make people fear for their favorite shoes. Despite the state Patrick had found her in, he couldn't help but feel it could have been much worse. He was grateful she seemed okay, apart from being so drunk, she couldn't stand by herself.

Patrick somehow managed to get her sitting upright in the passenger seat, and got into the car, but he didn't start the engine. He wanted to see what she had to say for herself first. He eyed her warily, worried for his leather seats, but she seemed to have emptied her stomach completely.

She was staring at the dashboard with dazed-looking eyes. He couldn't help but notice how different she looked, despite her disheveled appearance. The only other time he had seen her this dressed up was when they had gone to a CBI fundraiser. She had looked stunning then, and she looked stunning now, although quite sickly.

Her shiny hair was in loose curls, framing her face, which had little makeup, but enough to make her emerald eyes glow. She was wearing a small green dress which wrapped around her neck delicately, ending in silk folds above her knees. His eyes lingered on the black heels, the thin straps criss-crossing up her ankles. He was slightly fascinated to see her in high heels, being so used to seeing the sturdy shoes that covered so much of her lovely calves...

Patrick shook himself, feeling ashamed in more ways then one. He reached over and touched her arm gently. She looked up, her bright green gaze meeting his. He was shocked at how sober it suddenly was. For a moment they sat, staring at each other. Her eyes were blazing with something he had never seen in them before, some kind of passion. Patrick was surprised to feel a slight energy between them, drawing him closer to her. But he resisted. Her eyes continued to stare at him, unwavering, shockingly focused in her state. Finally, he spoke, breaking the spell.

"Let's get you home. You are kind of a mess, no offence." She snorted, breaking the eye contact and looking out the window as Patrick started the car.

"Thanks," She slurred, trying to sound sarcastic, but Patrick could tell she didn't mean it. She was truly thankful he had come. He had seen it in her eyes.

As Patrick pulled to a halt outside Lisbon's apartment, he saw her mind ticking over what had happened. He was intensely curious, he admitted it. After a few minutes of silence, he decided to ask.

"So... Are you going to tell me why you were all alone, in a bar, and so drunk you were passed out?" Patrick said it with gentle humour, but he let a serious tone enter his voice. Lisbon sighed, leaning back in her seat, still staring out the window.

"I need coffee," She said suddenly, looking over at him. "You want a cup of tea?" He smiled at the way she knew not to offer him coffee.

"Okay, sure." He said, opening his door and hurrying around to help her out. He didn't plan to let her make it, though. A drunk Lisbon, preparing boiling tea and coffee? He didn't think so.

Patrick opened the passenger door, grabbing Lisbon's arm to pull her upright and steady her.

"No, m'fine." She pushed him away, placing her feet on the pavement. He held his hands up in surrender, a small smile touching his face. _She is so damn stubborn._

He watched as, frowning in concentration, Lisbon stood. She made it two small steps before wobbling, teetering on her unsteady heels. Patrick caught her, steadying her before she could fall flat on her face.

"Thanks..." She muttered grudgingly, and allowed him to help her up to her apartment. He unlocked the door for her, and carefully sat her down in what he guessed was her favorite armchair, judging by the worn, stained arms of it. He found her small kitchen, and made the tea for him and the coffee for her.

Once Lisbon had a mug cradled in her hands, and Patrick was seated comfortably in a second armchair, she began to speak. She kept her eyes fixed on the swirling coffee the whole time.

"The date w'Walter was going great. He took me to a really nice resturant, this huge, fancy place with mar- marble floors and expensive food..." She paused. "But then he told me he'd met... someone else. I left. Then I walk'd to the bar." Her voice wavered slightly.

Patrick was stunned, which was not a normality for him. He had never seen her this undone, except maybe when he had attempted to hypnotise her to find out if she had murdered a man and blocked it out. Or maybe when Sam Bosco had died. He watched her face, seeing the pain there. She had really been falling for Mashburn, he realised with a jolt.

"That girl he's seeing: She's a twenty-somethin' Broadway perform'r from N'w York," Lisbon continued with a hint of bitterness. Patrick stayed still, as though if he made a sudden movement, he'd scare her away. He knew she wouldn't be opening up to him like this if she was sober.

"He's b'n seeing her for aslong as he's b'n seeing me," She said, and a single tear ran down her cheek. Without thinking, Patrick reached out and wiped it away. She looked up at him, startled.

"I'm sorry," Patrick pulled his hand away, putting it firmly on his knee. _What the hell was that all about?_ He thought to himself. Clearing his throat, he stood, tea forgotten on the coffee table.

"I should get going." He said to her, ignoring the feelings raging through him. She was still watching him with a confused look on her face, but when he spoke, she seemed to snap out of it.

"M'kay. I'll see you at work on..." She stopped to think, frowning. "Monday." She stayed seated, obviously not trusting her legs. Supressing a smile, Patrick headed toward the door. But as he turned the handle, a retching sound from behind him made him stop.

Spinning around, he saw Lisbon still sitting in her chair, her lovely green dress covered in the contents of her stomach. She looked completely shocked, and Patrick sighed, striding over to her.

"Okay, that does it. Go get changed, I'll wash your dress. I'm not leaving you here by yourself. I'll sleep on my couch." She didn't move, still staring wide-eyed at him. Then, finally, his words sunk in, and she stumbled her way into her bedroom.

When she came back out carrying her soiled dress, she was wearing her 'Lisbon' football jersey, the one he had guessed she slept in, and slipper-boots on her feet. She had obviously taken the opportunity to brush her teeth also, because she had toothpaste on her chin. He froze for a few seconds, wondering what he had gotten himself into, but she didn't seem to notice. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, looking exahusted.

"Let's go, then." Patrick guided her out of the apartment, and down the stairs. As he helped her back into his car, he couldn't help but feel closer to her than he had ever gotten before. She was leaning against him, minty breath hot on his neck, and he could smell the sweet cinnamon-y scent of her hair. He was thankful her street was empty, because he had the feeling they looked quite suspicious.

The whole ride to his apartment, she was silent. He guessed she was thinking about Mashburn, and felt another rush of hatred for him for putting her in this state. As he parked in front of his apartment, she yawned widely. Patrick smiled at how adorable she looked, like a little girl. Then he blinked, wondering how that thought entered his head. _What is with me tonight?_ He thought, shaking his head.

As he helped her out of the car, into the apartment, and up the stairs to his bedroom, Patrick felt almost like laughing. He never thought he would ever be in this position. Helping his drunk boss up the stairs to his bedroom? This would be one story Rigsby and Cho wouldn't believe. But then Patrick realised something: Lisbon would want this kept a secret. She never let people know she had weaknesses, and she would definitely see this as a sign of weakness.

Lisbon stepped into Patrick's room, and he turned to leave her in peace. But then her soft voice came from behind him. "Jane?"

He turned to see her leaning on the doorframe, surprised at how close she was to him. He could feel her breath on his face, and count every faint freckle on her nose.

"Walter called something out t'me, as I was leaving." She paused, looking down at her hands, then back up. "He said... He said 'You an' Jane need to tell each'other how you feel. You both deserve it.'" Patrick stopped breathing. _What?_ His brain yelled. She looked at him, emerald eyes boring into his. "He's right." She took a deep breath.

Patrick didn't know what to do or say. For the first time in a long time, his mind was blank.

But then she was kissing him lightly on the mouth. Patrick felt his heart beat faster, and everything around him went blurry. It was the sweetest kiss he had ever experienced, and there was so much feeling behind it. It only lasted a few seconds, and then Lisbon pulled back, smiling slightly.

"Thank you," She whispered, and promptly closed the door in his face.

-Break-

_I've got to hand it to her,_ Patrick thought two minutes later, climbing onto his couch after putting Lisbon's dress into the washing machine. _She is definitely the most charming drunk I've ever met._

**So there it is, chapter one! What do you think Lisbon will make of this? Do you think she will believe Jane?**

**I really hope this chapter is up to standard, and that it makes sense. I know some parts of it are a little bit sloppy, but I did try! Remember, I'm just a beginner. There is still more to come, but I don't know how many chapters. Please review, and I don't mind constuctive critisism, so be honest! Thanks again, so much.**

**- Ashlee-Rose :)**


	3. Chapter Two

**Wow. All I can say is... wow. I can't stop smiling after reading the reviews! You are all just amazing, and I never expected to get such positive feedback! For at least one person to say they liked it was mindblowing, but 17? That just... blew me away. So to the people who reviewed the Prologue, Smnbkr, 24Mentalistlover, Jisbon4ever, lysjelonken, madcloisfan, and Feralious, and the first Chapter, Smnbkr, PriscilaOrglene, Madam Spooky, sweetandsombre, Jisbonforever, madcloisfan, Kuhlama, 24Mentalistlover, TeresaJane, lysjelonken, and xx Guess xx: Thank you. So, so, _so_ much. It meant so much to me, and I really appreciate it. Now I just have to hope I won't disapoint you all... :S **

**So, into the story! :)**

**Ashlee-Rose :)**

**Disclaimer: The last five times I checked, The Mentalist belongs to Bruno Heller, and will never belong to me. (Dammit.) But this story (and the mistakes in it) does. Yay... I think. :b**

**Chapter Two**

**Lisbon's POV**

"...and then I helped you up the stairs into my apartment, you walked into my room and slammed the door in my face. Don't worry, I slept on the couch." Jane flashed a dazzling grin. "...and yeah, that's pretty much everything that happened last night." Jane finished with his long explaination, smiling and stretching his arms. He let his arms fall back down, clapping his hands together. "So, feeling better now?"

Teresa ignored him, glancing down at the glass of water in her hands. She had been sitting wide eyed and silent through the entire story, except to interupt with things like "What?" and "Oh, I remember that!" And now she definitely remembered Walter breaking up with her. _Asshole,_ Her brain snarled viciously. _You can do much better then that womanizing idiot! _But her heart was hurting as much as her head.

Teresa hadn't dated much since highschool. She was too hard to handle for most men, and the ones who _could_ handle her were generally asses. But then Walter had come into her life, in the strangest way- a murder suspect. He had chased her mercilessly, calling her and flirting with her, until she had given in. And she had felt hope again. Actual happiness. Not the adrenaline rush that came from tackling a criminal to the ground, or the satisfied feeling of finally closing a case. Genuine happiness. And now that was gone.

Without warning, tears welled in Teresa's eyes. She was slightly shocked at herself. Usually she had much better control over her emotions, and was tough enough to hide them. Well, from normal people. Hiding feelings from Jane was downright difficult. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on the glass of water, willing the tears away. But they only came faster, streaming down her cheeks in a warm torrent.

Within moments, a warm hand was resting on her shoulder, rubbing soothing circles. "Shh, it's alright, Lisbon. It's okay."

Teresa pawed at her eyes, trying to brush the moisture away, but the tears were coming too quickly, and she gave up. Teardrops dripped off the end of her chin, making wet spots on the front of her jersey. Hesitantly, Jane lifted the hand from her shoulder and brushed the tears off her chin. Teresa looked up, finally, meeting his eyes.

"It's alright," He murmured softly, gazing at her. His eyes were so clear, intently looking at her. For just a moment, Teresa felt safe and calm, serene almost. _Is he hypnotising me again? _Her brain wondered hazily. But then the loss of Walter punched her in the gut again, and she leaned back in the chair heavily, breaking eye contact. She covered her face with her hands, shutting out Jane's sympathetic gaze.

"Oh, god. Walter." She said miserably, wanting to kill herself for showing so much emotion, to Jane of all people. But it was too late now. She might as well get it all off her chest. She sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"I really thought we might have had something." Out of the corner of her eye, Teresa saw Jane slowly edge closer on the seat beside her, and hesitantly put out his hand again. It lightly touched her shoulder, beginning to rub comforting circles again. As awkward as she felt with the situation, she was strangely grateful for him being there.

"Oh, Lisbon, I know. I could have told you what a womanizer he was, but-" Teresa felt a wave of sudden anger crash over her. She turned to Jane, pushing his hand away impatiently.

"Oh, you could've _told _me? Who was the one who _encouraged_ Mashburn to ask me out, huh? Who was the one who convinced me to give him a shot? You know what, you're just annoyed that you didn't see this coming!" She glared at Jane, feeling all comfort in him being there disapear out the window. She waited for him to defend himself, but he just gazed at her, a strange look in his eyes.

He shook his head sadly, not breaking eye contact. "But I did see this coming. I just hoped he wouldn't do this to you."

Teresa snorted without humour, rolling her still-watery eyes. "Oh, right." She paused, then continued. "I'm not his type, that's why he went for that other girl. I'm not a model, or an actress, or anything like that. I'm just... not his type!"

Jane continued to stare at her with that strange look. His gaze made her feel slightly self concious, and she stood, glancing away from him. He sat silently for a few moments, and then he spoke quietly.

"You aren't his type, that's true. You are far too good for him."

And before Teresa even had a chance to think about his words, to process them in any way, he stood, grabbed her chin in a firm grip, and pressed his lips to hers.

For a moment, Teresa was too shocked to do anything. But then one of Jane's hands reached around to press against her lower back, and the other lightly touched her hair. And she felt herself getting swept away in the moment.

_Hmm,_ She thought to herself woozily, kissing him back. _I could get used to this._ But then the rational side of her brain kicked in.

"Jane!" She screeched, pulling away hastily. Her lips tingled and she could still feel warm patches on her back and neck where his hands had been... _Focus, Teresa, _She told herself sternly. Jane was watching her, looking slightly nervous, as though he expected her to slap him. _I should_, she thought, trying to be upset. _That was completely inappropriate! _

_So why did you enjoy it so much? _A snide part of her brain remarked.

"I- I've gotta go." Without a second glance in his direction, Teresa grabbed her things off the counter and ran out the door. She was more confused then ever.

- Break -

"Boss?" Teresa jumped at the knock on her office door.

It was early Monday morning. After she had fled Jane's house, she had called a cab to get her home, ignoring the curious questions about her clothing. (Or lack of clothing). She had spent the rest of the weekend trying to decide how to handle it. Usually, she would face something like this head-on, as was her nature. But in this case, she had resolved to avoid the topic (and Jane) completely.

Teresa looked up to see Van Pelt cautiously poking her head through the door. She straightened in her desk chair, clearing her throat.

"What's up, Van Pelt?" She hastily began shuffling papers, trying to look busy. She could feel Van Pelt's eyes on her, curious.

"We got a case. A body was found, down by the Sacramento river." She began to leave, but turned back around, small smile on her face. "Oh, and I would hurry. Jane's got his mind set on driving again." She left, still looking at her boss curiously. Teresa had noticed all her team watching her, and expected they had never seen her this unfocused. She mentally shook herself, trying to forget that damn kiss.

_I've got to start acting like nothing is wrong,_ she told herself sternly, grabbing her keys. _But I'll ask Cho to take Jane._

**Jane's POV**

"What do we have?" Patrick slammed the door of Cho's car, wandering over to Lisbon and Van Pelt, who were examining a body. He noticed that at the sound of his voice, Lisbon turned away, pretending to consult some papers.

She had been ignoring and avoiding him all morning. When he had walked into the CBI kitchen, she'd grabbed her half-made coffee and bolted, and later as he had walked over to his couch, she had quickly ended her conversation with Van Pelt and left.

But he knew it wasn't to hurt him. She was obviously still reeling from what had happened, and needed some time. The rest of the team was noticing her behaviour too. Patrick had noticed even Rigsby looking at her funny, and he was normally oblivious to people's emotions. Van Pelt shot Lisbon a glance before turning back to Patrick, confusion still written in her eyes.

"Casey Brown, twenty-four years old. She lives a few minutes away from here, with her flatmate, Jenna Doyle, who's on her way here now. No signs of any other abuse apart from the obvious cause of death, strangulation." Van Pelt indicated red marks around the victim's neck. "She doesn't have any family, apart from a sister in France. We've been trying to get a hold of her."

Cho strode up to them, addressing Lisbon and Van Pelt in his usual deadpan tone. "I've just been speaking to Mrs. Davis over there," He gestured toward a crying woman who was being comforted by another woman. "She lives just over the riverbank and she rang the LAPD last night when she heard a woman's scream. They checked the area, didn't find anything, and left. Of course, they were surprised when the body was found here this morning." He shook his head.

Patrick frowned, lost in thought. How could the police have missed this girl? She was lying right on the bank of the river, directly below Mrs. Davis' house. It was almost impossible. _Unless Mrs. Davis isn't telling the truth, _he thought, an idea sparking in his mind.

"May I speak to her?" He asked Cho, face carefully blank. Cho eyed him, openly suspicious. He knew now that when Patrick asked to 'speak to' someone, it normally involved hypnotism, prying personal questions, or mind games. He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Lisbon.

"Not yet," she said sternly from behind them. Patrick turned to see Lisbon, finally looking at him, large green eyes on his for the first time the whole day. She held his gaze, almost looking shy, but then her eyes flickered to Cho.

"Bring her in. Jane can question her, but _under my supervision_. I don't want another complaint to be added to the Jane complaint filing cabinet." She gave a small smile before snapping on latex gloves to examine the corpse.

Patrick shrugged and held his hands up in surrender, trying to bite back a smile. _Finally,_ he thought, relieved.

Lisbon kneeled beside the girl's body, gently lifting her clothing, checking the pockets. Patrick watched her for a moment before wandering off. He was in the mood for icecream.

- BREAK -

Patrick lay on his couch, finishing the last bite of his icecream cone. He was just contemplating getting up to make a cup of tea when he felt the couch depress by his feet. He sat up to see Van Pelt perched on the end, looking at him. He pulled himself into a sitting position with his feet on the ground so she had more room, looking around at the empty desks.

"Where is everybody?" He asked curiously. Van Pelt waved a hand. "They've gone off to speak to Casey's flatmate. Of course, I was sent back to the office to do some digging. But that's okay," She added hastily.

Patrick smiled. Van Pelt never liked to complain about anything, even the fact that she was usually the first to be sent back to the office to do the boring work. Being the rookie agent had its downsides.

"So..." Van Pelt turned to face him, her body language excluding interest. "It happened, didn't it?"

Patrick was confused for a moment, but then it hit him. He was slightly taken aback. _Is she talking about what I think she's talking about?_ He wondered, warily watching her.

"Something between you and the Boss," Van Pelt continued matter-of-factly, trying to hide her amusement. Patrick stared at her. He had known that Van Pelt was sensitive to other people's thoughts, but he didn't know she was _that_ sensitive.

"I don't know what you mean?" Patrick said eventually, trying to sound Pelt's smile finally broke through, and she grinned. He had obviously just confirmed her guess.

"I knew it was coming, I just didn't know when. You two are always flirting, but this morning you've barely looked at each other. So tell me: What exactly happened?" She leaned forward eagerly. Patrick frowned.

"Grace, I don't know what you mean." Her expression turned skeptical, and he sighed, losing all pretence. He leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He couldn't be bothered making anything up, and besides, Van Pelt obviously knew what was going on.

"On Friday night she called me, completely drunk," Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick saw her freeze, listening intently. "She had just been on a date with Walter Mashburn, it had gone bad, she had gone off to relieve the pain." Patrick felt slightly bad for telling Van Pelt this. He knew Lisbon hated anyone seeing her weaknesses.

"Anyway, she needed a ride, I took her home, she was way too drunk to function by herself, so I took her to my place to take care of her. I was worried. She slept in my bed-" Van Pelt made a sudden jerking motion, and Patrick hastily added "-I slept on the couch." He paused, not knowing how to say the next bit.

"She told me that Mashburn had told her that we 'needed to tell each other how we really feel'. Then... in her... drunken state... she kissed me. Nothing too exciting, just a small kiss." Van Pelt fidgeted slightly, still staring at him.

"She doesn't remember, so please don't tell her. She would be mortified, I don't want to do that to her." Van Pelt nodded, eyes wide. Patrick continued.

"When she woke up the next morning, she couldn't remember a thing. So I told her everything, minus the kiss, and she was really upset about Mashburn. I mean, really upset. I haven't seen her like that since Bosco... you know." Van Pelt nodded again, looking sad.

"I was comforting her, and she started talking about how Mashburn breaking up with her was her fault, how she wasn't good enough for him." Patrick made a small sound of disbelief. "I just randomly... told her she was _too_ good for him, and kissed her. And she spooked, and ran away, and I didn't see her again until this morning."

Van Pelt started at him silently, pondering. Patrick sighed, leaning forward.

"Wow. So when she was out-of-it, she pretty much told you she likes you?" Van Pelt stared at her hands, seemingly deep in thought. Then she looked up at him, a slightly sympathetic look in her eyes. "And... you feel the same way about her, right?"

Patrick leaned toward Van Pelt, staring into her eyes. "I haven't told anyone this, but the night Bosco died... he asked to see me alone. Lisbon was outside. He said 'I know how you feel about Teresa. Your..." Patrick paused, swallowing. He didn't know if he wanted Van Pelt to know the next part. But then he continued. "...Your... wife would want you to be happy. Keep her safe, or I'll come back to haunt you.'" Patrick smiled slightly at the memory of Bosco threatening him.

"Complete nonsense, of course, but it's the thought that counts. And then... he died. I never told anyone what he said, although I made up something to tell Lisbon." He shook his head.

"I didn't even realise until Bosco said that. It's so strange. I knew I liked Lisbon, that I admired her, but until he said that... I didn't know the extent of my feelings."

Van Pelt had been sitting silently, watching him, and now she sighed.

"Love is confusing. It's like trying to navigate through a storm without a map." She smiled without humour, and Patrick knew she was talking about a certain CBI agent.Patrick nodded in agreement, thinking about his experiences with love. How Angela had been cruelly taken away from him. And now... Lisbon had been set in his path? Van Pelt gently touched his arm, and he looked up at her.

"You know, I think Bosco was right," She began hesitantly. "Your wife would want you to move on, and be happy. I mean, I'm no expert, nowhere near, but... you and Lisbon both deserve some happiness. And I think you can give each other that."

And with that, Van Pelt stood, sat down at her desk, and began to work. Patrick shook his head with a smile, heading to the kitchen to make himself a much-needed cup of tea. _Good _a_dvice comes from the strangest of places. _He thought wryly.

**I'm sorry this chapter took so long! It's not quite right, either. I've been re-working it and re-working it, over and over, but I just can't get it right. So this will have to do. **

**I really hope it meets expectations, and if it doesn't, please tell me how I can improve!**

**Thanks so much!**

**- Ashlee-Rose :) **


	4. Chapter Three

**Hello out there! Yes, I'm still alive, and still writing this FanFic! Things have just been a little hectic lately, what with school starting again (where I live, it's the beginning of a new school year) and plus, I've had a terrible illness: Writer's Block. Ugh. WB is seriously going to be the death of me. I sit down to finish this story and nothing comes to my head. I'm just staring at a blank page for half an hour. But then inspiration came in the middle of the night, and I promised myself to write the next chapter. :)**

**Again, thank you so so much if you have been following this story (and if you're still interested after my little break)! You mean so much to me, you have no idea. So with that, into Chapter Three! **

**Sorry it's kinda short. But you'll see why when you get to the end of it. Prepare yourself.**

**- Ashlee-Rose :)**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own the Mentalist. Duh. :)**

**Chapter Three**

**Jane's POV**

Over the next couple of days, Lisbon seemed to be keeping a safe distance from Patrick. She wasn't avoiding him, but she certainly wasn't going out of her way to talk to him. The playful, teasing banter that usually occured between them was gone, and Patrick found the office rather boring without her sarcastic teasing. He had spent the last three days laying on his couch, occasionally glancing at Lisbon through the glass wall of her office, and avoiding Van Pelt's knowing gaze. He had the sneaking suspicion that she was thoroughly enjoying her position in his love life.

It was a strangely warm Wednesday afternoon, and Patrick was brewing himself a cup of tea in his favorite blue teacup. The team were at their desks, waiting for instruction from Lisbon. As Patrick sat back down on his couch with his tea, Lisbon strode in. Rigsby's back instantly straightened, as he was obviously yearning to get out of the hot office.

"Something just occured to me," Lisbon said thoughtfully, walking over to the huge glass evidence board. A photo of Casey, the victim, was tacked up in the centre, and various scribblings surrounded it, along with a list of suspects. So far the main suspects were the flatmate, Jenna Doyle, the boyfriend, Ben Jenson, and a friend of Ben's who Jenna had deemed 'creepy and in love with Casey'.

_The classic clich__é__ suspects,_ Patrick thought. _The best friend, the boyfriend, and the love-sick weirdo._ But something about this case didn't fit, he knew.

"Mrs. Davis rang the LAPD at around ten, right? And their search was over by about eleven," Lisbon continued, picking up a whiteboard marker to circle the times on the board. "But according to the coroners, the estimated time of death is around seven o' clock that night. Mrs. Davis told us she called the police the second she heard the scream," She paused, tapping the marker against her chin once, brow furrowed in thought.

Patrick felt his concentration waver as he watched her brain ticking. She had such intensity for such a small woman, he thought in slight wonder. But then the moment was over, and her face was clear again.

"Obviously, a dead girl can't scream. And there is also the case of the police not finding Casey in their search. So either the coroners are wrong about the time of death-"

"Not likely!" Rigsby scoffed, and Lisbon ignored him other than nodding slightly.

"-Or Mrs. Davis is hiding something from us. Van Pelt, could you do a quick background check on Mrs. Eleanor Davis?" She looked at Van Pelt expectantly, but the redheaded agent was already pulling up a page on her computer.

"Should only be a second..." A few clicks of her mouse, taps on the keys.

Patrick leaned against the back of the couch, already miles ahead. _Mrs. Davis doesn't seem like one to have a criminal record, but she might have some kind of rage issue... _Patrick thought, brain whirring._ ...and although she didn't have any photos of him, I know she has a son- Ah ha..._

Instantly all the pieces fit together in his mind. He saw who had done it, how, and why. He smiled slightly, settling back comfortably and sipping his tea. As he normally did, he would just keep his thoughts to himself for now. He would wait until there was sufficent evidence to back him up before sharing his ideas. It was safer that way.

"Eureka," Van Pelt grinned as she used her favorite phrase. "'Mrs. Eleanor Davis – admitted to anger management classes in mid-2008 after yelling threats at a collegue, and brandishing a knife at them in the staff kitchen.' She also has two restraining orders against her." Before she even finished speaking, Rigsby was bouncing out of his seat, eager to get out, and Cho was grabbing his gun out of the upper drawer.

"Right, I think we'd better go have a chat with Mrs. Davis," Lisbon told the team, pulling her chestnut hair into a loose bun to get it off her neck. Patrick tried and failed not to watch.

"Cho, Rigsby, you come with me now. Van Pelt, do a bit more research before joining us. You can bring Jane today," She added as an afterthought, as though he wasn't important, although her cheekbones turned lightly pink as she said it. Very un-Lisbonish.

Patrick bit back a sigh. He missed the days when he always rode in her car, in the passenger seat right next to her. He loved watching her careful driving, and teasing her about when it would be 'his turn to drive'. She hated his driving, and always complained he was speeding. Patrick enjoyed those trips, though he never let on that he did.

"Okay, Boss," Van Pelt said cheerfully, glancing at Patrick out of the corner of her eye.

The three agents left, and Patrick watched Lisbon's retreating back. With another sigh, he lay back on his couch, placing the teacup on the floor beside him. He was beginning to wish that none of this had ever happened. It was extremely distracting for the both of them.

**Lisbon's POV**

As she pulled up outside, Teresa tried to ignore Rigsby's loud chewing in the seat beside her. She almost missed the irritating chatter of Jane compared to this. Pushing the image of Jane from her mind for the fourth time in five minutes, Teresa opened the door and stepped out. Mrs. Davis lived alone in a slightly run-down house on the river bank. She stood on tiptoe to see through one of the windows, but she couldn't see anyone inside.

Without a moment's hesitation, she strode up to the door, Rigsby and Cho on her heels, and knocked sharply on the door. "Mrs. Davis? Agent Lisbon from the CBI, we spoke a few days ago? I need to talk to you about a few things in your statement." She waited. No answer. "Mrs. Davis?" She called again, tapping once more on the door. This time, it opened. Mrs. Davis' face looked pale and drawn, and she waved them in without a word.

Teresa shot a questioning look at Rigsby and Cho, but followed her in anyway. They walked through the hallway after the woman, who led them to the small lounge. She sat in an armchair, and waved them toward the sofa. Once they had settled, Teresa pulled her notes from her pocket, flipping to Mrs. Davis' statement.

"According to your statement, you rang the police when you heard a female scream for help, at about ten o' clock, right?" The other woman nodded, but Teresa noticed a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

"But the estimated time of death is long before that, at around seven. We're wondering how this is possible." Now there was a definite flash of fear in the woman's eyes. Teresa knew she was on the right track. She paused and waited for the reply.

"Oh, would you excuse me for a second?" Mrs. Davis suddenly stood, and quickly left the room. Teresa was instantly on alert. _She's going to do a runner, _she thought to herself, and saw Rigsby and Cho come to the same conclusion. _That screams guilty._

But before they even had a chance to follow her, Mrs. Davis was back. And she was pointing a shiny handgun directly at Teresa's head.

"Don't move," She said in a deadly calm voice, arm unwavering as it pointed the gun between Teresa's eyes. She froze, and saw a flicker of movement as the other agents drew their guns, aiming them at the woman.

"Mrs. Davis, let's just calm down," Teresa began in her most soothing cop voice, but the woman's eyes flashed with anger and she cocked the weapon. She no longer looker gaunt and pale, but flushed, upset.

"Don't you tell me to calm down. I am calm. Perfectly level-headed, just as I was when I killed that psycotic _bitch,_ Casey. Yeah, that's right," She continued, gun arm steady, a small smile blooming on her face. "I killed her. Strangled that stupid little girl. But don't think I didn't have a good reason. Do you know what that bitch did last year? She killed my only son." Her eyes filled with hateful tears.

"She made his life a living _hell_. He _liked_ her, so he asked her out on a date. She turned him down in such a public, humiliating way, it ended up on the internet. She said some things to him that just broke his spirit. Nobody would talk to him after that. He went out to 'drown his sorrows' and died of alcohol overdose. When they found him, it was too late. And now, you interferring cops are going to ruin everything." She spat with venom. Her voice rose an octave, and she turned her gaze on Teresa. Her eyes were like ice.

Through the entire story, Teresa had been watching the gun in front of her carefully. It hadn't wavered, even as Mrs. Davis' voice had. Cho and Rigsby were staring at her, guns pointed at the woman's head.

"Put the gun down." Cho said forcefully, cocking his own weapon. Mrs. Davis smiled at him menacingly, but she lowered the gun slightly. Teresa reached her hand around to her hip to grab her handcuffs.

"You're under arr-" But before she could finish her sentence, or even move forward, the woman turned to look her right in the eyes. And pulled the trigger.

**Jane's POV**

Patrick was stepping out of Van Pelt's car when he heard the gunshot. It echoed in his ears, reverberating around his head. In the same instant, he and Van Pelt began running toward the house. A second gunshot rang out as he shoved through the door, shockingly close, bloodcurdlingly loud. Patrick felt a cold trickle of fear run down his spine as he got to the end of the hallway. He looked around him, taking in the scene in a millisecond.

The lifeless body of Mrs. Davis on the ground, blood already seeping out of the gunshot wound in her chest. Cho, gun still pointing at the body, shock on his normally impassive face. And Rigsby, crouched beside the crumpled body of Lisbon, blood pouring from a dark hole in her abdomen.

"No!" The cry escaped from Patrick's mouth unconciously, and he fell by her side. He vaguely heard Rigsby ringing 911, and the sound of Van Pelt crying, but all he could see was Lisbon, and in his mind, Angela, her blood everywhere. Patrick struggled to keep his head. No, this could not happen again. He couldn't lose another person he cared about, he couldn't take it.

He scooped his hand gently under her head, the other grasping her small fingers. He could feel the weak flutter of her pulse, becoming slower by the second.

"Lis- Teresa. Come on, stay awake, you can do it. Come on, Teresa, I need you to stay with me."

Patrick's voice broke, and he was aware of the rest of the team watching him. Lisbon's eyes flickered, and her hand twitched around Patrick's.

"I..." She trailed off in pain. Her eyelids fluttered again. But then she convoulsed, body jerking, eyes rolling closed. She gasped a last ragged breath. And her body relaxed, still in Patrick's arms.

**-Ominous music- I know, I know. I'm mean. But my stories can't all be happy endings... Not that it's the end yet. There is still one chapter to go. But will Lisbon live to feature in it? You'll have to wait and see. Cliffhangers are so evil. :(**

**- Ashlee-Rose **


	5. Chapter Four

**I can't believe you amazing people are still reading my Fanfic. I'm kind of in shock, I expected you all to have given up on me by now! Again, you people who reviewed... I seriously love you. You make my life better everytime I get word back from one of you. I would personally send you each a card with a hug in it if I could! -Gives you all a huge bear hug and a cupcake.-**

**I've been informed in the reviews that if Lisbon dies, I die, so I'm kinda worried right now. :b You'll just have to read on and see... **

**By the way, usually I am totally anti-cliffhanger, but I had an urge to write one. So I did. I know you all hate me for it. :(**

**I was planning on writing this (second-to-last!) chapter later on in the week to up the suspense. But now that I have death threats, I decided the suspense was upped quite enough. Haha. So without further ado, here you go! I'm much happier with this chapter than with the last one.**

**(By the way: If you picked up on it, I mis-spelled 'interfering' in the previous chapter. ((Thanks to R. Reynolds for pointing this out!)) Sorry about that: My spelling OCD must have been malfunctioning. :S )**

**Ashlee-Rose :)**

**Disclaimer: In case you don't remember from all the other times I've said it: I don't own the Mentalist. But I do own this very long intro (sorry) and this chapter. **

**Chapter Four**

**Jane's POV**

Patrick stared blankly at the poster on the wall opposite him. It was a collage of all the different types of skin cancers, printed on glossy, eye-assaulting pink paper. It was a truly horrible thing to put on a wall, even for a hospital. But it was good at distracting him from painful reality.

He had been sitting in the hard-as-rock plastic chair for the past four hours. He had vaguely noticed things going on around him in the hospital, like the fact that the blonde receptionist at the front counter was deeply infatuated with the head doctor. And that the girl sitting in the corner had already stolen three of the hospital magazines, and was eyeing up a fourth. But he wasn't really paying attention. All his senses felt numbed, blunted.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cho pacing backwards and forwards in front of a vending machine. His hands were clasped tightly together, and his usually deadpan face was strained and white. Patrick heard a dry sob every now and again from his left, and he knew that Van Pelt was enclosed in Rigsby's arms, trying not to bawl like a child. The CBI team had been in exactly the same positions for hours, not knowing whether to hope for or dread the arrival of news.

Patrick closed his eyes, wishing (not for the first time in his life) that he could turn back time. He had held Teresa's limp body close to his for the eight minutes it had taken for the ambulance to arrive, watching her for any signs of life. None had happened. The last he had seen of her, she was being loaded into the back of an ambulance, her face still and pale. The ambulance staff had told him she had stopped breathing, but her heart was still beating. But they had been quick to inform him not to get his hopes up, and that her condition was so severe, she was literally more dead than alive. Patrick's legs had almost collapsed as his worst fear was confirmed.

_It's almost funny,_ he thought to himself, though he felt no humor. _I've spent all these years hiding my emotions from my team members, but the one time I break down in front of them, Teresa isn't even conscious to see it._ He was jerked out of his stupor by the sound of a shrilly ringing phone, but didn't open his eyes.

"Cho." He heard Cho answer the phone, voice weary. It was the first time any of them had spoken in three hours. There was a pause. "Okay. See you soon." Click.

Patrick finally opened his eyes as he felt Cho sit in the chair on his other side. The bright, garish light of the hospital burned his eyes, and he felt a sudden wave of hatred for the place. It was all bright fluorescent lights, bright posters, bright white walls. But they couldn't disguise the darkness of the place. There was an almost tangible air of sickness and death in the air, and no amount of lightness could cover it.

"Hightower's on her way," Cho announced grimly to them all. Van Pelt cleared her throat and lifted her head from Rigsby's chest. It seemed the two had fallen together again in their grief, using each other for support. As much as he resented his feelings, Patrick envied them that. Rigsby opened his mouth to speak, face sober and drawn, but at that moment a tall man wearing a white coat walked in.

As he strode towards them, Patrick heard Van Pelt's sharp intake of breath, and saw Cho stand swiftly. But he felt as though he was frozen, couldn't move or speak. He was paralysed with fear at the sight of this man. The man that would determine Teresa's fate.

"Hello there," the doctor began, face straight and serious. "My name is Dr. Cole Martin, I am the head of surgery here. You must be Miss Lisbon's family?" His eyes flickered over them, compassion in his eyes.

_A little too much compassion for the news to be good,_ Patrick realised with a jolt. The tiny bit of hope he had left smashed to the floor, shattering like delicate blown glass.

"No, we're her team, we work for the CBI." Rigsby's voice shook slightly, and he cleared his throat loudly, trying to conceal his emotional voice. Patrick kept his eyes trained on Dr. Martin's.

"But we are kind of like her family," Van Pelt added softly, a sad smile on her tear-streaked face.

Dr. Martin nodded in that sympathetic 'I-know-how-you-feel' way doctors were so good at.

"Well, I'm very sorry to say I have some bad news to give you." He said, looking down at a clipboard and flipping the pages slightly awkwardly, like he knew he didn't deserve to witness their grief.

Van Pelt gave a small sob and grabbed onto Rigsby's shirt again, who lightly touched her hair, shock on his face. Cho sat down, exhaling loudly. Patrick still didn't move.

"We have removed the bullet and performed surgery on her stomach, skin and liver. Under different circumstances, she may have recovered, but in this case the loss of blood was much too severe. There is only about a 10 percent chance of Miss Lisbon coming through this kind of injury. Judging by the blood loss, technically she should be dead already. She is holding on with all her might, but her condition is rapidly deteriorating, and she is currently on life support. There isn't much more we can do. I'm so sorry."

Van Pelt gave another whimper from Rigsby's chest.

"No-" She whispered brokenly, then broke off again, trying to stem the flow of tears. Cho sighed again, and for the first time since Patrick had known him, the man had watery eyes.

"Can we see her?" Patrick asked softly for about the fifth time that day. He already knew the answer, but it was always worth a try.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Martin said sympathetically, but Patrick caught a twinge of impatience. He'd obviously been informed of Patrick's many requests to see her. "That is out of the question. She is in a very delicate state, and-"

Patrick finally found the will to move. He stood, pushing past the doctor impatently.

"Wait, you can't-" Dr. Martin tried to grab his arm, but he dodged the hand easily.

Patrick speed-walked toward the Intensive Care Unit, ignoring the calls of the doctor from behind him. He was going to see Teresa if it was the last damn thing he ever did.

**Lisbon's POV**

Teresa felt the bullet hit her stomach with earth-shaking force. She felt the tiny cylinder of metal cleave its way through her abdomen, and cried out softly. She watched with hazy vision as Cho shot Mrs. Davis in retaliation, a perfect kill shot, then Rigsby seemed to move in slow motion toward her.

Mrs. Davis instantly crumpled, and so did Teresa. The sick crunch of her shoulder hitting the hard ground didn't even register in her brain because the pain in her lower body was so intense.

She tried to force her eyes open, but they seemed to already be wide open – she just couldn't see. A hand grabbed her wrist in a strong grip, feeling for her pulse, which she was sure was slowing already.

"Mmm..." Teresa mumbled, trying to push out words, but her mouth seemed to have stopped working. She was trying to see through a cloudy haze to whoever was beside her when she heard it.

"No!" The loud cry of anguish from above her made her stomach lurch. _Jane. _There was so much pain behind that single word, it almost crushed her. She wanted to reach out, to hug him, tell him everything would be okay. But she couldn't. It would be a lie.

All of a sudden the warm hand at her pulse disapeared, and different, gentle hands cradled her. Jane's hands, she somehow knew. She could hear someone crying in the background – Van Pelt? - and someone else on the phone to 911. But all she was concentrating on were the soft words being spoken in her ear.

"Lis- Teresa. Come on, stay awake, you can do it."

_No,_ she thought, feeling her consciousness waver. _I don't think I can._

"Come on, Teresa, I need you to stay with me." Jane's voice shook as he tightened his grip on her. Suddenly, to her surprise, Teresa's vision cleared. She tried to squeeze Jane's hand, to let him know she was alive. And that she... loved him? Yes, she realised, she did love him. The thought bloomed in her mind beautifully, opening up a world she'd never seen before.

"I-" She started to speak, but suddenly she felt a sensation as though she was being electrocuted. It shot from the wound through her entire body, and she found herself blacking out. The light slowly faded, and the last thing she felt was the warm hands of Patrick Jane, holding her as gently as one holds delicate glass. And she was at peace.

_So this is what it feels like to die,_ Teresa thought in wonder. She couldn't see much, but the pain in her abdomen was gone, and she could hear soft voices murmuring around her. She felt completely whole, calm, and comfortable. But when she tried to move her arms to touch her stomach, they felt heavy, weighed down, as though they were filled with sand.

_What the hell?_ She thought, feeling the first twinge of panic. It was like being in one of those anxiety dreams, where you can't move your body at all, no matter how hard you try. She tried to speak, but her throat seemed to be blocked by some kind of thick plastic tube. It was an extremely uncomfortable sensation.

And then the pain started. First it was just a small throb, centered in her abdomen. But it slowly increased in intensity and size until she wanted to scream. She frantically tried to twitch, jerk, _anything_, to let the murmuring voices know about the pain. That she needed help. But she couldn't move an inch.

"Excuse me, I'm Agent Patrick Jane of the California Bureau of Investigation, and I need to enter this room."

At the sound of the voice, Teresa instantly stopped trying to move. _Jane!_ Her heart swelled, and in that moment, she knew for certain: She was in love with Patrick Jane.

To her amazement, this thought seemed to release her body from it's lock. She concentrated with all her might on moving her hand. She willed the muscles to move with her sternest inner voice. Then:

"Oh, my god! Robert, get over here!" A woman called out from close by, excitement and awe in her voice. The sound of quick footsteps. "Miss Lisbon... she just moved her fingers!"

"Impossible," came another voice, male this time, harsh. "She is beyond return, it may have been an adrenaline rush." Teresa felt a rush of anger toward this voice, and just to prove him wrong, she twitched her hand again, finding it easier this time. Gasps all around her.

Someone paged a Dr. Martin, and pretty soon, another joined the meleé of shocked and joyful voices.

"Miss Lisbon? Teresa Lisbon, can you hear me?" A bright light passed by Teresa's closed eyelids, and she flinched as it filtered through.

"Good god, her reflexes are working! And her pulse rate is up, almost to normal! What in the world...?" Teresa heard a machine's beeps become slowly more regular, and realised that it was her own heartbeat. _I'm alive. _The fact hit her like a ton of bricks, shaking her to her core.

A hand suddenly grasped hers. Somehow, she knew instantly who it was. With a final wrenching of her facial muscles, Teresa blearily opened her eyes. And looked up into the face of Patrick Jane, smiling brighter than the sunshine streaming through the window.

**Jane's POV**

As soon as he saw her petite frame, covered in a thin hospital blanket, Patrick's brain formed a plan.

"Excuse me, I'm Agent Patrick Jane of the California Bureau of Investigation, and I need to enter this room." He said hastily to a doctor blocking the doorway, not tearing his eyes away from the unconcious woman in the hospital cot. His heart was breaking, but he knew he had to say goodbye before the inevitable happened-

He cut off his own thoughts, wincing at the pain they caused him. Again, a flash of Angela, covered in blood. _So much blood..._

The doctor looked him up and down, opening his mouth to reply, probably with some snarky, self-important comment. But a cry from a nurse beside Teresa's bed interrupted him.

"Oh, my god! Robert, get over here!" She called, face lit up. "Miss Lisbon... she just moved her fingers!"

_No,_ Patrick thought. _It can't be._ He followed the doctor over to the bed Lisbon was curled in, looking fragile.

All around him, doctors were gathering, talking. But he blocked the words out. All he could see was the delicate hand of the woman he loved. He stared at it. And it twitched.

All of a sudden, Patrick's anguish shattered, and hope filled it's place. He watched a small screen in awe as the straight-ish line of Teresa's heatbeat turned into a steady zig-zag, loud beeps accompanying it. He watched as the closed eyelids squinted at the light pointed in them.

Without even realising, Patrick grabbed onto Teresa's hand, feeling a smile spread across his face.

She was coming back to him, like his Angela never could. And the feeling was euphoric.

Her eyes opened slowly, sleepily blinking at him. And then a smile broke out on her face too.

Patrick leaned in, easy as breathing, and lightly touched her cheek. Teresa's bright green eyes locked on his.

"Since when have you been 'Agent Jane'?" she murmured croakily, smirking slightly. Patrick shook his head. The woman had nearly died, and she was still ribbing him? Of course.

Without further thought, he leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth. This time, they were both prepared for it.

**Yay! Lisbon survived, fully against the odds. But of course she did. This is Agent Teresa Lisbon we're talking about, the toughest woman out there!**

**The story is almost finished, just an epilogue to go! It is now midnight, just so you guys know, and I have been writing and editing non-stop for a full five hours. (Against the express wishes of my parents. Shh!) I am exhausted, so there may be more mistakes than usual. But I stayed up to finish this for you, because that is just how much I care. :)**

**I know this is probably the sappiest Jisbon FF you've ever read, (what can I say, I'm a romantic, haha) and probably not the most original, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Stay tuned for an epilogue, which will be set in the future... :)**

**- Ashlee-Rose :)**


	6. Epilogue Two Years Later

**Well, here it is: the epilogue that has taken me weeks to get time to write. I'm sorry. Being a 16 year old in highschool has major downsides. Loads of homework is one of them. But now I've literally just now got some free time to write, which feels great. I hope you enjoy the last little bit of this story. And if you have stuck with this story through to the end: Thank you. This one is for you. :)**

**Ashlee-Rose :)**

**Disclaimer: Bruno Heller (a.k.a. not me) owns the title of Mentalist Creator. (May as well be Ruler Of The Universe in my mind.) The story belongs to me, apart from the flashback scene, which is from the episode 'Rose Tinted Glasses'. **

**Epilogue: Two years later**

The bride entered at the rear of the church, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She glanced down at her beautiful dress, making sure it was still perfect. The cream-coloured, bead-encrusted bodice hugged her chest before spilling from waist to feet like melted white chocolate. As she gracefully moved down the isle on the arm of a tall man, she set eyes on her husband-to-be. Her beautiful face lit up even more, and a smile firmly fixed on her face.

The groom watched her walk toward him, suddenly unable to breathe. His sweaty palm clutched his vows like a life line, but his grin was unshakable. He knew without a doubt that this was what he wanted. This strong, passionate, gorgeous woman was his future, and that was still mind-blowing to him. He could still remember the first time he had met her, and had instantly known she was the most amazing woman he had ever met. And now she was going to be his.

As the bride stepped up beside the groom, he couldn't stop gazing at her. Her warm brown eyes flickered to his face, and he wanted to run away with her, right then and there.

"I love you, Grace," Wayne whispered softly, taking hold of her fingers. With a single squeeze of his hand that conveyed a thousand emotions, Grace replied, "I love you too."

From the front pew, Patrick smiled to himself, looking down at the small hand entwined with his. He looked up into the emerald eyes of Teresa, and was amused to see they were slightly damp. She saw him smirking at her, and elbowed him, probably harder than was necessary, flicking her eyes back to the couple.

Throughout the service, Patrick watched Rigsby. The depth of the joy in his eyes went to his soul, and he seemed to be in a permanent state of shock.

Cho, who had smiled more that day than he had smiled since Patrick had known him, was the ring-bearer, of course. Rigsby knew better than to trust Patrick, and besides, they didn't call them Bert and Ernie for nothing. The two agents were practically brothers.

It was a beautiful service, Patrick had to admit. There was pale violet everywhere, and the entire church was covered in white roses. Van Pelt had mentioned that this was where her parents had been married.

When the ceremony ended, Teresa rushed over to hug Van Pelt tightly. Patrick smiled as he watched them, knowing that Teresa felt strong maternal feelings towards her team. In a way, they were like her children. And as tough as she seemed, she was really a soft and kind person.

"Ready to go?" Teresa walked back over to Patrick, eyes shining. He nodded, taking her hand, and they made their way toward the outside rose garden where the reception was being held. Patrick smirked, not resising the urge to tease her a little.

"The great and tough Agent Teresa Lisbon got a little teary back there, huh? I should've guessed you were a sucker for weddings. You have that vibe about you." He waved his arms around her, vaguely describing 'vibe'. She pushed arm hard, making his stumble back a step, and rolled her eyes.

"Come on, I was not crying. What do you take me for, a marshmallow?" She protested, turning to look at him. Of course, Patrick saw right through her, as usual. Teresa's hard, bad-cop exterior was good, but not good enough. From the moment he had met her, he had noticed she had a soft side, especially for children. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

He raised his hands in mock-surrender, shrugging. "Okay, if you say so, but I'm pretty sure you were. Unless you have a sudden allergy to roses that I'm not aware of."

"Oh, hush." She bumped her arm against his, lightly this time, trying and failing not to smile. Patrick smiled too, feeling completely content. Ever since he had almost lost Teresa two years ago, they had been inseperable. They were living together in her apartment, and although they were in love, their relationship was the same as ever. He still couldn't help messing with her sometimes, and she still frequently used the dry sarcasm that she reserved for him. But now it felt different somehow, more intimate.

It made things at work a little difficult sometimes, but since Hightower had been promoted and Teresa had taken her position, she had altered the rules slightly. It was now within the rules to have relationships with collegues, as long as there was no evidence of it at work. No physical contact, no soppy looks, nothing. Not that that had stopped Rigsby and Van Pelt, who sometimes disappeared for brief periods, only to come back slightly ruffled and blushing. Teresa had scolded them half-heartedly more than once, but she couldn't get too mad at them. She was too happy.

Patrick lead Teresa over to a table, where Cho and Hightower were already seated, chatting.

"Hey, Cho, Agent Hightower," Patrick said cheerfully, interrupting as he plunked himself down beside them. Cho looked up at them, a rare smile on his face. No doubt he was a sucker for weddings too. Teresa sat down gracefully beside Patrick, smoothing her pale green dress over her legs and reaching for a glass of champagne. Hightower smiled and nodded at them.

"Hello Jane, Lisbon. Having fun?" Jane nodded seriously.

"Yes, but not as much fun as Teresa here. She's a total sucker for weddings, right?" He turned to smirk at her. Teresa shot a glare at him, but it was weakened by the full-blown grin he shot back.

"Well, Patrick, I-" Her retort was cut off by the sound of a harp being lightly strummed. They all turned to the dancefloor as a slow melody began. Patrick had to congratulate Van Pelt- or, Grace Rigsby, now- on her choice of wedding song. It was beautiful, haunting and sweet at the same time.

The new Mr. and Mrs. Rigsby began their waltz, and everyone's attention was captured. They never took their eyes off each other's face, and small smiles dominated their features. But as captivating as the newlyweds were, Patrick found himself absentmindedly watching Teresa's face multiple times during the song. Her expression had softened to look almost maternal, and the affection she felt for her two agents was obvious. Patrick thought she looked even more beautiful in that motherly, vulnerable state.

_She would make a good mother,_ Patrick surprised himself by thinking. But it was true. Sure, she was rather impatient and short tempered, but weren't all women? He almost chuckled at the thought.

When the song ended, Grace and Wayne moved off the dance floor to receive congratulations. But Patrick noticed her shooting a glance toward their table and having a quick word with the band.

_What is she up to?_ Patrick mused, watching her. She looked pleased and slightly devious as she shot another glance at their table, meeting his eyes this time. She smiled softly at him, and turned back to the crowd surrounding her.

And then the band struck up the song.

"_Sayin' I love you, is not the words I want to hear from you..."_

Patrick exhaled, smiling, but resisting the urge to hit his head with his palm. _Of course._ Typical Grace. Of course she would ask the band to play what she knew was Teresa and Patrick's song, at her own wedding. That was just the kind of selfless person she was. Plus, Patrick was sure it also had to do with the conversation they had shared the week before.

"Shall we?" He held out a hand to Teresa, and she laughed, obviously remembering the first time they had danced.

-REWIND-

"_Oh, god." Teresa glanced up at the speakers above her head, smiling, the conversation she had been having with Jane forgotten. The mere sound of 'More Than Words' by Extreme had her re-living her teen years. Dancing at her prom... Singing in front of her mirror... Waltzing alone around her tiny bedroom..._

"_I used to love this song," She said, half to herself, half to Jane, still taking a short trip down memory lane. _

"_You love this song?" Jane sounded fascinated for some reason. She nodded, smiling at the sweet memories._

"_I used to love this song," She repeated dreamily._

"_You love this song?" He also repeated, gesturing to the speakers and smiling._

"_Yeah." She snapped back to present at the tone of his voice. _Where is this going?_ Teresa thought, slightly weary, smile fading._

"_Obviously you wanna dance." His eyes sparked mischieviously. _

_Teresa scoffed inwardly, smile returning. _Oh, sure. Dance? With Patrick Jane? Not a chance._ But... part of her was yearning to, as much as she tried to ignore it. She shoved the random flutter of attraction away before he could see it. (She hoped.)_

"_With you? No." She tried to sound final, but a slight hopefulness slipped into the end of her voice. Dammit._

"_Oh, come on." His voice was kind, and it actually sounded as though he... wanted to dance. No tricks, no games. Just two people dancing. The flutter of attraction returned with a vengance, this time more of a punch of attraction. He smirked at her, looking deeply into her eyes. _

"_You can pretend that I'm that mean, cold-hearted guy that you used to worship from afar but never talked to."_

_Teresa was taken aback for a second. How the hell did he know about Matthew, the guy she had been infatuated with all through highschool? But then the surprise disappeared. This was Patrick 'The Psychic' Jane. He was a freaking mind reader, whether he said he was or not._

_She allowed herself the thought of dancing with Jane... And unwillingly smiled, giving her emotions away._

"_Hmm..." He smiled, obviously satisfied that he had been correct. Teresa gave in._

"_No funny stuff," She warned him, only half joking, but the smile was firmly on her face. _

_Why did the thought of dancing with Jane bring butterflies to her stomach, and make her smile like an idiot? She pushed the questions from her mind and took his hand. It was warm and comforting in her grasp, and she realised it was the first time she had held his hand. It was smooth and felt very strong._

"_Really?" He wondered out loud, and Teresa grinned at him. She felt slightly tipsy, although she hadn't had anything to drink. She guessed it was the buzz of hearing such a memory-ridden song, but she had the sneaking suspicion it was something else, too. _

_They walked out onto the dance floor, and he put his other hand firmly at her waist, pulling her in close. Closer than she had expected. She could smell his clean, skin smell, and feel his heart beating steadily against hers, in almost perfect time. She exhaled, letting him lead her around in a slow dance. He was an excellent dancer, not that she would tell him that. His ego was big enough as it was. She could feel his light breath on her hair, his hand at her back, his cheek resting on the top of her head. _

_Without really thinking about it, she gently dropped her head onto his shoulder, tucking into his neck. She was surprised at how... right it felt, as though she belonged there. The emotion of being totally at peace washed over her, and she wished she could stay dancing with him forever. _

_Teresa would never tell, but in that moment, Matthew never even entered her mind once._

**- BREAK-**

Patrick wrapped his hand firmly around Teresa's small one. They made their way out to the dance floor, and out of the corner of his eye, Patrick could see Grace watching them. He made a mental note to thank her later.

"_More than words, is all you have to do to make it real..."_

Placing his hand gently on her waist, he pulled Teresa close to his body. Her hand went to his shoulder, and her head instantly dropped onto his shoulder, sweet-smelling hair brushing against his face. He reached a hand around to cradle the small of her back, and held their entwined hands aloft.

Gently swaying on the spot, Teresa sighed in Patrick's ear contentedly. Patrick began absent-mindedly murmuring along to the song.

"_Then you wouldn't have to say, that you love me. 'Cuz I'd already know."_

Teresa pulled back to look at him, her eyes full of barely concealed love. Patrick couldn't see anything other than her when she was looking at him like that.

He leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers. It felt perfect. This was where he wanted to be. This was who he wanted to love for the rest of his life.

Patrick pulled away again, seeing Teresa open her gorgeous eyes at look at him again, and he knew that what he planned to do that night was the right thing to do.

He remembered his and Grace's conversation from the week before, and smiled. That woman was much smarter than she gave herself credit for.

As Teresa rested her head back on his shoulder, Patrick felt the box in his pocket bump against her stomach. He smiled at the thought of the delicate, antique engagement ring nestled in the velvet box in his pocket. He couldn't wait to see the tough Teresa Lisbon handle a marriage proposal.

**Ta-da! :)**

**I really hope this is a satisfying ending for you all, and I am so grateful for your feedback. Thank you so much for reading my very first chapter-style FanFic and giving such amazing reviews. It means the world to me.**

**(In case I wasn't clear enough: Grace and Patrick's 'conversation' was about him proposing to Teresa. He is planning to propose that night. I didn't know how clear that came across, so...)**

**Love you all!**

**Ashlee-Rose :)**

**P.s. I will try my BEST to keep writing Mentalist FanFics, especially since I have some author followers. (Wow, I cannot believe I can actually type that! It makes me wanna cry with happiness. :) If you are one of those people, I am hugging you through the computer!) **

**I have a notebook full of ideas for Mentalist stories that I'm itching to write, but I'm not entirely sure when I'll get to write again. I will try my absolute hardest, (trust me, I need to write to stay sane) but this is a huge year for me, and I am really busy. :(**

**(Oh, and this has nothing to do with FF but I just have to share it with someone: On the show 'No Ordinary Family', there is a character called Agent Cho! She's female! Cho's wife? Haha. See ya later, lovely people!)**


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